


To Love Together

by Rollingjules



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Adopted Children, Character Death Fix, Fix-It, Flashbacks, Getting Together, M/M, Military Science Fiction, Not Epilogue Compliant, POV Alternating, POV Keith (Voltron), POV Shiro (Voltron), Post-Canon Fix-It, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:48:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25435681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rollingjules/pseuds/Rollingjules
Summary: Krolia returns from a mission unexpectedly early, bringing news Keith is terrified to hear. But it's not just any clone - it's an infant. Keith is determined to raise him, and Shiro reluctantly agrees to help. Their relationship is still new, but will a baby bring them closer or stress them to the breaking point?
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 66





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You may recognize this as a threadfic from twitter! I'm polishing up my twitter works, finishing and posting them as actual fics, and I'm starting with this one. The thread is mostly complete, the plot I have in mind only extends a little bit farther from what's already tweet-outlined, but if you would prefer to avoid the "spoilers" I guess then feel free to just read along as I post here! Thanks guys. <3

Keith is looking at star charts when his Blades communicator pings him with the proximity alert that means Krolia and her team are reentering atmo. They haven’t been gone very long, only a few movements into their two phoeb-long mission. Their early return is unexpected, and means something gravely serious must have happened on their mission. Keith is out the door with his knife in one hand, his other curling fingers into the wolf’s fur as they teleport closer to the landing site.

The wolf snuffles in his hair as they wait, his full height up to almost nine feet now. The Atlas accommodates his large size through a large private quarters for he and Keith, a fact which has caused grumbling on more than one occasion over accusations of favoritism or ‘paladin privileges.’ But the way he happily prances around the desert airfields, blinking farther and closer at his own whims, it’s clear that even the extra space is still cramped for him. Keith wishes he could roam freely, and he encourages the wolf to go where he pleases to be more comfortable; he never leaves Keith’s side for long.

The sleek Marmora fighter lands quietly, as usual. There is no exterior damage to the ship, no sign of even a skirmish in open space. That is enough to unsettle Keith further, but he reminds himself that no requests for a medic party to meet them on the tarmac came through over the Blades channel – or any channel, for that matter. Still, with serious injuries ruled out, he can think of very few explanations for an early return.

They all set him on edge.

His shoulders sag just the slightest bit with relief when the hatch opens and reveals his mother standing there, just as healthy as she was when she left, safely returned to Earth. The rest of her team files out behind her, all accounted for. Keith finds no trace of limping or stiff limbs, no medical attaché rushes up from Blades Base Terra at the far end of the airfield. No death on the team, no mortal wound, and they certainly didn’t send back an alert that the mission was compromised (or even threatened)! So as he makes his way over to Krolia to greet her, it’s with questions brimming in his mind. Nothing would be so serious they wouldn’t even send word ahead over the network, and if the network was compromised they _definitely_ wouldn’t return back to base and lead pursuers right to them. Something he cannot account for has happened.

She smiles when he approaches, brushing desert grit out of his hair lovingly.

“Keith.” It’s all she says, but it says it all. They’ve never been a talkative family, but Keith has never minded.

“You’re back early,” he says, without preamble, but she’ll hear the unasked questions in the statement.

“We were deactivating old Empire military outposts. The Blades want to begin converting them into infrastructure hubs and refugee housing.”

Keith is aware. He knew what their mission was before they left, he’d been briefed. She must be going somewhere specific with this.

“On our most recent stop, we found… something else.”

He frowns, expecting her to elaborate.

She starts describing the facility and Keith’s knuckles are already going white. He _knows_ what she’s describing, because he’s been to one. Nearly lost his life there.

“It wasn’t exactly the same as the one you’ve seen. Ulaz confirmed it, we send him scans of our findings at each base.”

He always forgets that she must’ve seen that vision in the quantum abyss along with him. Seen the murderous look in the eyes of someone who wasn’t Shiro, not quite, but close enough in all the ways that really mattered. He still laughed like Shiro, but crueler. Still goaded him like Shiro, but more cutting.

As she continues to calmly describe what they found, Keith can barely stay sane. “What did he say?”

He can tell she’s carefully choosing her next words.

“It’s… what he described as ‘a younger batch.’ What was left, at any rate. The druids disintegrated without the binding power of Honerva’s quintessence. The facility’s been abandoned.”

“But how long for?” Keith worries at his lip, fraught with thoughts of looters, butchers, horrible futures. It’s been a few years since the war, anything could have happened in that time.

“It was difficult to tell. It had been hit by a derelict freighter when we discovered it. Its power grid was badly damaged, the collision fried most of the facility’s systems.”

Keith starts to say something, but she stills him and continues.

“All of the incubators are accounted for. An exact date is difficult, but it is certain that it hasn’t seen contact with anyone in decaphoebs.”

For a second time today, Keith sags in relief.

“What about the clones? Are they inbound on a transport? Are they in medical already?” He sees the somber look on her face and knows they aren’t. “You- you didn’t leave them?!” His heart begins to pound, his hands trembling.

Krolia puts her large hands on his upper arms and pulls him in for a hug. “No, my sweet boy, we didn’t leave them. But… there wasn’t much to leave. The incubators haven’t been getting reliable power, most likely even before the collision.”

Keith can’t allow himself to think.

He can’t let himself imagine more bodies in clear chambers tumbling out of the sky. He can’t picture rows of glowing lights dimming and long hallways falling silent. He can’t, _he can’t he can’t he **can’t**_.

But his cruel mind provides.

He shakes like a leaf in her arms.

“Keith, I need you to listen to me very carefully now.”

Her voice is firm, but gentle. In every way she’s the capable, fierce, loving mother he yearned for as a child.

“We checked them all. There were hundreds, all… offline. Except for one.”

He jolts to look up at her. “Where is he?!”

“Ulaz is with him, he rendezvoused with us while we were a few quintants out. His chamber is hooked up to our ship.”

He’s furious at that, in spite of himself.

“You didn’t let him out?! He could be dying!”

She squeezes his shoulders, calling him to listen. To be calm.

“We thought it was best, for now. We brought him straight here. The first person he sees should… look more like him.”

She sounds almost guilty.

“It was… difficult for me. He reminds me so much of you, even just sleeping there. Will you see him?”

There’s no question, in Keith’s mind. Though he fails to see how anyone who looks like Shiro could remind her of _him_ , Galra growth spurt or otherwise.

“Take me to him, mom, I need to see him. Does Shiro know?”

“Yes, Ulaz is speaking with him now via holocall. He’s probably on his way.”

“Better meet him here, then. He shouldn’t have to see this alone.”

Ulaz calls it a ‘younger batch’ again, when they arrive. Keith was not prepared for just _how_ young.

He hears the clinking of Shiro’s uniform boots, first at the entrance to the Marmora ship then rapidly getting closer. He can tell by the sound of it that Shiro is harried and stressed, walking with an air of purpose he only puts on when he needs to rein in how he really feels. The footsteps get louder as the door slides open for Shiro to enter, then stop suddenly. The silence feels ungrounded, unsure.

Yeah, that’s the theme of the day right there.

“It’s a baby,” Shiro mutters, shocked. It’s stating the obvious, but could you blame him for his surprise? “I was expecting… me.”

Keith takes in the clone’s soft, pudgy features. The tiny hands, the smattering of dark hairs on his head.

He takes in how stiffly Shiro stands beside him, unsure of what to do. He seems to struggle with himself for a moment before he speaks.

“Have you identified any weaponry?”

His voice is hard and unforgiving. Keith’s protest dies in his throat. Honerva knew better than to develop clones who could slice their own faces off in testing, there wouldn’t be any laser babies toddling around.

But he knows why Shiro needs to ask. After everything he’s been through, Keith understands.

Ulaz is at the ready with a datapad, reminding Keith of a doctor with a clipboard.

“Based on my findings, and the readings from the remains of the facility, it would appear that no druidic magic has been applied to the... patient.”

Keith has spent enough time with the Blades in the last few years to know a near-fumble when he sees one, but Shiro doesn’t know Ulaz as well. He’ll see the pause as a grasp for the right word, not being one breath away from saying _subject_ or _specimen_.

And thank god, really.

At a time like this, he appreciates Ulaz’s attentiveness to his own bedside manner.

“What about DNA? Is it the same as mine or is it this body’s?”

Shiro is doing his best to keep it together, but Keith can practically feel how conflicted he is.

Ulaz scrolls a bit along his screen before he answers. “It does appear to match the body you currently possess, without the addition of cybernetics. From what I have researched, and from what Krolia has told me, he seems to be a healthy human infant.”

Shiro turns to Keith then, at a loss.

“What do we do here, Keith?” He reaches out for his hands, seeking comfort.

The thing between them is new, only a few weeks of shy touches and the occasional kiss. It’s not for lack of trying, there’s scarcely been time to hash out anything – the war, their feelings, let alone a full-blown romance. But Keith takes Shiro’s hands in his own, holding on tight.

“We keep him with us. That’s what we’d do with any other orphaned child, isn’t it? Find him a family?”

Shiro’s caught completely by surprise, he can tell. He knows it can’t have been what he was expecting him to say. Shiro’s expressed his worries before about what they would do if other clones appeared, and he’d always insisted that the only safe thing, the only _humane_ thing, would be to eliminate them. But that’s unthinkable when he sees the tiny child, curled up like he’s merely sleeping suspended in some unknown fluid. He’s completely without fault for anything that’s happened in the war, in the Empire. He’s barely a few months old, by the look of him, and he doubts any of that has been spent outside the metal and particle barrier tube he resides in now.

Keith is prepared to fight. He’s not abandoning this child, or leave someone else to care for him. The Coalition has found and placed innumerable war orphans with families of their own, or at least in temporary custody while suitable long-term arrangements can be made. But this isn’t a traditional orphan.

Not only is he a part of Shiro, but he’s the most unusual of the unusual, the one in a million scenario. He doubts Shiro would be comfortable sending him to a civilian family, but Keith doesn’t want to ponder what alternative he would suggest. This is a child who needs them, and only them.

He’s prepared to do it by himself, even if Shiro objects.

For his part, Shiro does well hiding his apprehension. Keith’s known him long enough to recognize his tells, the way his forearms tense with his resolve to stay put-together. The closed-off look in his eye from not wanting to be transparent about how he feels. They can talk about it more later, but the clone pod won’t support a baby forever. It’s honestly a miracle it’s held out this long in the first place. Shiro can take as much time as he needs to work out his thoughts, but Keith isn’t willing to wait. Still though, when Shiro goes to speak, Keith is ready to listen.

“Are you sure? Can we even handle a baby… right now?”

The _we_ surprises him. Whether he means at this stage in rebuilding the universe or at this stage in their relationship doesn’t matter to Keith. He knows the answer.

“We owe it to him to try. He didn’t _ask_ to be born, but he’s here now.”

He used to think that to himself, as a lonely child in group homes and stuffy social services offices. It absolutely is how he feels now, looking at the tiny thing alone in the world but for their choices. He doesn’t want this child to be set adrift, or worse… Not out of their own trepidation.

He smiles then, turning to Krolia.

“Besides, I know an expert who can train us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all know I'm a sucker for baby au, baby content in general. Baby Keef? Yes, give me life. Baby clone? YOU BET YOUR ASS WE GOT A BABY CLONE. Thanks so much for reading, I love reading your comments too! Feel free to yell at me on twitter, I'm currently at @lioslegbelts!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro is useless when it comes to names, as Keith learns the hard way, but they make do. Shiro reflects a little on this change to their lives.

Later, the Paladins gather together in an Atlas common room much like the one on the Castle of Lions. Hunk is researching baby food, Pidge is already programming toys. Lance sits next to Keith knitting what will become little booties, using a tiny foot as reference. As Keith holds the baby, with Shiro on his other side, Allura sits in front of them on a low ottoman pulled up close.

“You want me to _hold_ him?” she asks, skepticism and slight unease obvious. They’ve all heard the story of baby Coran.

“Just for a bit,” Shiro pleads, “I just…”

He trails off, searching for the right words. Keith can sense it’s not all he’s searching for.

He starts again. “I need to know for sure. I need to know if you sense anything.”

Keith, one finger held in a surprisingly strong little grip, reminds himself that Shiro has all his clone’s memories. Including their fight. Of course he would want to be sure, it’s his right to want that absolute answer. But looking at the sleepy little thing tucked up in his arms, Keith knows in his heart there’s nothing to fear.

He passes the baby over nonetheless, Allura delicately taking him and closing her eyes. Immediately Shiro’s hand finds his, held tight. A strong grip there, too. He squeezes, keeping Shiro close.

A few moments later, Allura’s eyes open. Before Shiro can press for answers, she smiles.

“I sense no evil presence, no ill will. I know he-“

The room echoes with the _loudest_ fart Keith’s ever heard – and it came from the baby.

Lance seems moved almost to tears. “He’s an artist!”

Pidge snickers while Hunk nods approvingly. From the other side of the room where he’s sewing a tiny romper, Coran chuckles like he was in on it the whole time.

Allura cringes, a look of ginger diplomacy trying to mask revulsion contorting her face. “Infants truly have a unique sense of timing, don’t they.”

Taking him back from Allura, Keith is relieved that the room is big enough for him to find a corner and change him. He stands up, hoping to get it done before the baby gets too fussy.

“He needs a name,” he says with authority. “Any thoughts, Shiro?”

The room is quiet enough to hear the Atlas hum.

Hunk fumbles with his tablet, nearly dropping it. Pidge makes a cutoff gesture with her hand. Lance misses a complicated stitch and has to start over.

Keith, who missed their game of _Monsters and Mana_ , has no idea what he’s just suggested. Shiro doesn’t exactly have a flair for names.

“Shiro, uh… Junior?”

Keith pins him with a stern look, completely unimpressed, and grabs their duffel-turned-diaper bag as he passes. He makes his way over to one of the corner tables the common room sports, unzipping the bag to get at the wipes and plastic changing mat inside.

“We’re not calling him Shiro Junior,” he states, laying down the law.

“Well he can’t be Takashi, that’s me!” Shiro pouts, folding his arms.

The eastern doors whoosh open as Krolia joins them, just having finished up the final baby briefing with Marmora headquarters, wherever it is out in deep space.

“Mom, what should we name him?” Keith asks, without looking up. The baby is starting to wriggle on the table, uncomfortable in his soiled diaper. Keith mumbles to him in comfort, extracting him from his hastily-borrowed clothes.

Shiro will always be amazed by Keith’s ability to tell who it is when someone is nearby. It’s almost uncanny how good he is at picking out individual footsteps or breathing. But he keeps that thought to himself, waiting expectantly for Krolia’s wisdom as the smell of dirty diaper wafts through the room.

“Don’t look at me,” she starts, “I wanted to name _you_ Yorak, and obviously that didn’t fly with your father.” She takes up a spot near Shiro, correctly guessing the side that had been Keith’s until a moment ago.

“He should have a human name,” Krolia decides.

Keith thinks on it as he tucks the baby into his new diaper and wraps him back up in the new too-big 4-months onesie on loan from somebody on the Atlas crew.

He knows Shiro’s father was named Ryou, but that doesn’t feel right. He doesn’t know how Shiro would feel about a family name. He seems ill at ease about him still, which on a rational level Keith understands. But on an emotional level, interacting with the clone has made it abundantly clear to him that he’s just a regular baby, just from unusual circumstances. And to be perfectly honest, they’re all in unusual circumstances. Just a few years ago they thought humans were alone in the universe, and now they’ve traveled to _other_ universes with alien friends. With nothing left tying this baby to Honerva, _or_ the Galra Empire, he’s practically mundane. Test tube babies have been around for centuries now, it’s hardly any different. He’s not trying to be unkind to Shiro, or difficult, or not understanding of his feelings, he’s just able to move past the fact that this is a clone. And considering his own history with clones, he feels entitled to that decision.

He tosses the old diaper and wipes down the changing area one more time before picking the baby up again. He stares at his round face, hoping for any spark of inspiration.

“He’s such a fighter,” he muses aloud, moving to rejoin the others. “He held out all by himself, for who knows how long, and he made it all the way here…”

A feeling strikes him then. Yes, that name will be good.

“Akira.” Keith declares. “He didn’t give up, he’s strong.” Like Shiro, though he doesn’t think Shiro would appreciate the comparison right now. He can keep it to himself, for now.

For the first time, Shiro looks at the baby without suspicion. He’s smiling when he says, “I like that.”

It’s almost a relief, having a name for him. Shiro feels like he’ll be able to distance the cute baby in front of him (is that vain?) from the fact that this is still his clone when he’s got a name Keith picked out just for him attached and a little knitted hat on his head. It might be easier to see him as a separate entity that way. It’s already difficult enough for him to put this baby in a different category from the tortured, violent copy of himself that nearly destroyed everything that mattered to him on Honerva’s orders. Hopefully being able to think of him as something other than _the clone_ or even just _the baby_ will help with that.

He’s Akira. He’s his own little person. A bit of the mystery is gone, from a guardianship perspective – after all, Shiro already knows what Akira will look like in first grade, in middle school, when he gets his first job… But now he’s thinking about all those things.

They really signed up to do this. Well, Keith did, but Shiro’s not about to let him do it alone. He shouldn’t have to, for one thing, and his own misgivings aside this is still, in a weird way, a part of him. A decade ago, Shiro told Keith he’d never give up on him and to never give up on himself. But it’s very clear to Shiro that Keith sees that as a _mutual_ promise. His actions since even before he left for the Kerberos mission have made that abundantly clear. So what kind of friend would he be, what kind of would-be lover, if he let Keith take on this huge responsibility by himself? A responsibility that should, by rights, fall to Shiro before anyone else? It’s _his_ clone, he should be Shiro’s responsibility. Yet Keith was there without an ounce of hesitation, no questions asked, ready to make a lifelong commitment to a child he owed nothing to.

That was part of what he loved about Keith. No misgivings, just unflinching steadfast determination. He’s benefitted from that devotion an unfair amount in his lifetime – a lifetime that is now his own again, thanks to Keith himself.

It may take him some time. Time to trust, time to go from a wary observer of a potential threat to the caring parent Keith already seems to embody perfectly. But he and Keith are a team, and Shiro isn’t going to break that now. They’re gonna parent this kid, and he’s theirs now.

It gets him blushing a little, when he stops thinking about the what-ifs of it and focuses more on the concrete. He and Keith seem to have skipped ahead a few steps. _Several_ , really. They hadn’t even been on more than one or two real dates before this, a couple of stolen hallway kisses and a few commissary lunches holding hands, and now here they are about to raise a child together.

But he looks at the sleeping baby in Keith’s arms, practically curled into Keith’s abdomen, and can’t help but smile to himself.

“Do you want to hold him?” Keith asks, jolting Shiro out of his thoughts.

“What? Me? Are you sure?” The very idea makes him nervous.

Keith levels him a look of gentle exasperation. “Yes, you, we need to get him used to you. And to being moved around. We’re a working family.”

Shiro’s face blooms red.

Realizing what he said, Keith’s cheeks grow rosy but he smiles. “C’mon, he’s not _that_ asleep. Now’s a good time.”

Krolia watches them, a proud gleam in her eye as they get Akira ready for the transfer.

“Which arm, do you think?” Shiro looks at his arms, already fretting. Will the prosthetic be too cold? Too hard? Too easy to drop him? _Oh god, I’m not ready for this._

Krolia reaches over and gently bends his left arm into a crook. “You’ll need your elbow and your upper arm to support him. Put his head here, like your bicep is a pillow. Then you can hold him steady and support his hips and legs with your other arm,” she suggests helpfully.

Admittedly, he does feel better about it with an actual parent in the room. He’ll have to enlist Sam and Colleen for their advice, too. With Krolia standing by to help, Shiro nods when Keith holds Akira out to him.

 _Now or never, I guess_ , Shiro thinks.

The transfer goes smoothly, Akira only fussing a little as they move him around. Once he’s re-settled in Shiro’s arms, he quickly resumes his nap. No flash of purple in his eyes, no telltale feral snarl… Quietly, Shiro’s extremely relieved by this.

“Don’t let your guard down,” he says instead. Keith’s face falls, obviously disappointed in him for his mistrust, before Shiro can finish.

“No, I don’t mean it like that.” He smiles, wry. “What I mean is, apparently I was an extremely fussy baby. Don’t get too comfortable yet.”

Keith smiles, rolling his eyes, but he reaches over to adjust the way Akira’s little hairs fall to sweep them out of his eyes.

His hair… Shiro snorts.

“Oh man, this guy lucked out way more than I did. He’s got a full head of hair, I was half bald when I was born!”

“What do you mean, _half_?” Pidge demands from across the room. They’re all doing their own thing for the most part, the team is very charitably giving them some quiet time. It’s nice to just hang out peacefully like this. Rare.

“The top of my head was rubbing op on the amniotic sac for a good chunk of time, apparently I rolled around a bit and didn’t move much after. So I popped out with neonatal male-patterned baldness,” he explains, stifling a giggle. “My hospital picture was a tiny old man, haha!”

Keith scoffs, though it’s good-natured. “No wonder you were such a golden boy, you were born old.” He’s teasing, but Shiro finds he doesn’t mind. Especially not when he’s smiling at him like that. And when Keith leans in a little further to peck him on the cheek, his own smile feels shaky and gooey like an old cartoon.

He feels safer than he thought he would. Somehow he expected holding him to feel like a violation, his fight or flight instincts recognizing Honerva’s work. But all he feels is a gentle softness, a precarious happiness he wants to hold onto.

He’s surprised how quickly he’s coming around to the idea of going beyond just a guardianship. Actually being a parent, to a clone of himself. It’s still nerve-wracking, but Shiro reminds himself of what Keith said before: it’s true that he didn’t ask to be born. And… there’s also the fact that Shiro assumed he’d never get to have this.

He’s got a successful career with a long life ahead of him. Someone he wants to spend that life with, if Keith will allow it, and even a child to raise with him? A family of his own? Teen Shiro in his hospital bed would have fainted at the very thought.

He wants to do this. This is his family now, and he’s committed to it. He’s committed to the two of them. The three of them, he supposes he should count himself in this? Akira is part of he and Keith’s team now, and he finds he’s not mad about it. Because when it comes down to it, as reckless a pilot and as stubborn a leader as Keith is, even now, he knows Keith would never do anything that would put him in danger. And if that’s not enough to see him through this, he doesn’t know what would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked getting some Shiro POV! And also a lightning-fast update, holy shit, the twitter rough draft to full fic system really seems to be working?? I wrote several hundred more words to flesh this out and normally that would have taken... weeks, at the quickest??? We've cracked the formula lads, we've done it in the name of sheith science!!! (Please don't get used to this, just in case, idk how tenable this is in the long run but I'm sure enjoying the ride and i don't want to set any of us up for disappointment lmao)
> 
> Thank you for reading!!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The family gets settled in their new routine, and spend some time together. Shiro does a lot of thinking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Shiro POV! He's still getting used to Parenthood, lol, but he's really liking the perks. <3

After a few weeks they have something like a routine. They trade off half the day, Akira swaddled up to either of them until the wolf helps them swap on days they can’t meet for lunch. He’s usually on Keith’s back in the mornings, and strapped to Shiro’s chest in the afternoons. The strap extensions on the baby backpack were challenging to rig up, to accommodate for Kosmo’s much-wider-than-human chest, but it’s a good system. Kosmo sits upright, like a puppy at obedience training, and patiently waits for Shiro to unclip the backpack from him and shoulder it himself, a wriggling baby laughing the whole time.

Akira loves teleportation.

At first they worried Kosmo would be jealous of him, with Akira taking so much of Keith’s attention. But the giant furry space dog took one look and snuffled at his hair, licked his belly, and curled up around the three of them. Akira seems to love Kosmo as much as Keith does. It’s adorable.

He and Keith have also moved in together.

They were both shy at first. It had been a new relationship prior to all this, after all. But they’re getting much more comfortable with each other, and with Akira. Evening naptime is especially nice, he and Keith have some private time while the baby sleeps. As long as they’re careful not to disturb him, they kiss and touch each other quietly and blow off steam from challenging days with the Coalition. Plus, their support network is extremely helpful. Krolia and the others ensure they’re never short on hands for helping out, be it someone to load the dishwasher or help fold laundry. Hunk brings by specialty blended baby food at least twice a week.

Keith jokes about Akira chaperoning their dates. Shiro finds it sweet, and he’s come to love the sight of the two of them together more and more. It did take a while for him to trust Akira fully, which seems ridiculous; no adult should be suspicious of an infant, but he understands the reasons behind his own hesitation.

It wasn’t Akira himself he was wary of. After all, his first clone felt fine, even piloted the black lion, and he was still a direct line to Haggar and a deadly threat to the people most important to him. With all his experiences from his time in space, Shiro knows better than to be complacent based on appearances.

When it comes down to it, Keith is the reason he was even able to bond with the baby at all.

Keith trusted Akira from the getgo, and ultimately Keith’s instincts have never been wrong. Not about Lotor, not about Shiro being alive when the Garrison said otherwise. He trusts Keith, implicitly and with his own life. In the end, he had to acknowledge that that trust should extend to Akira as well. He did try, and try hard, to flip the switch in his brain that always said _danger_ and just live his life normally, but realistically that’s not possible. He’s still got to carry the weight of everything that’s happened to him, and the person he has become after everything they’ve been through. So rather than beat himself up about what now comes naturally to him, his brain and body rewired after years of high alert, he acknowledges the way he feels and lets it guide him from the back of his mind, not rule him. He lets himself trust a little bit at a time.

Akira’s hair is growing in thick and beautiful, just like Shiro’s did as a baby. Keith adores him. He brushes his hair lovingly, kissing his little head and making him giggle. Seeing them together makes Shiro want to lie down and cry with disbelief, still amazed this is his actual life and not just a prolonged dream in a hospital somewhere like when he was a child. The way Keith dotes on _both_ of them makes Shiro feel special, loved, in a way he’s unaccustomed to. It spurs him to dote back, to pamper Keith with soft touches and tender massages, sweet kisses in the night and unwavering support while they work. And Akira is sweeter than he could have ever imagined, reaching for them in the morning and laughing at their silly faces and the cheesy voices Shiro uses when he reads to him at bedtime. They’re accumulating quite the collection of picture books, courtesy of both their friends and the wider Atlas crew. Shiro’s favorite part of bedtime, though? He usually does the reading, and ends up sending both Akira and Keith off to sleep before tucking them both in. He loves his little family, but he also likes that it reminds him that he’s more than a soldier. More than an implement of destruction.

They have their bad days, of course. Command is challenging for Shiro, his first high-stakes position of authority _without_ a psychic link to everyone on his team. Atlas herself is a sweetheart, and she’s incredible, but she doesn’t sync the entire crew like Voltron did so it’s a different experience. He’s still _good_ at it, of course, but it requires a staggering amount of socializing and supervising. The Atlas crew numbers in the hundreds, and Shiro gets reports from each department and division almost daily. His bridge crew is an immeasurable help, but he’s an Admiral. The fledgling IGF fleet of Atlas-class ships nearing completion in the shipyards all report to him now. It’s… a lot. He wouldn’t be able to handle it without Keith beside him, and adding a baby to their responsibilities has been a difficult balance but he feels like they’re managing it. Somehow.

Keith splits his time between the duties of a Paladin and those of a Blade of Marmora, and the baby on top of it all. Shiro wishes he would share more of his burdens with him, but he knows it’s a bit hypocritical of him to ask when he comes home and doesn’t want to talk about work in any way whatsoever. They can’t help it, sometimes they snap at each other, but it’s nothing more cutting than a passing frustration. They’ve known each other long enough to know it’s not permanent. They take space when they need it, but mostly spend their time supporting each other. That usually ends up meaning bonding over the latest diaper blowout, cleaning up Akira’s latest dinnertime art project, or taking another hundred priceless irreplaceable baby photos, but it’s a good life. It’s a life Shiro wouldn’t trade for anything, and he’s glad Keith can sense his happiness. He feels it in Keith, as well.

Time seems to hurry by. Before they know it Akira is six months old – physically, anyway. It’s only been around four that they’ve had him as part of the family, but he seems to be on track with his more conventionally-born peers. Starting at two months old hasn’t seemed to hinder him, in fact even in the first few days he was meeting the milestones doctors expect of more traditional babies his age. They don’t quite understand it, but of course they also don’t have access to Honerva’s research or files from her time as Haggar.

One evening after dinner, they’ve finished up with Akira in the baby bathtub and Keith is putting him in his pajamas after a thorough gentle towel-dry. He’s brushing his thick hair, ready to gently towel it off one more time, and laughs out loud – which makes Akira laugh as well, just because. He’s very attentive like that, it’s adorable. Shiro looks up from his work datapad he snuck into the living room when Keith wasn’t watching.

“What’s so funny, babe?” They’ve both agreed to drop the _baby_ petname, in light of the circumstances. But _babe_ feels nice too, almost more intimate. Like a pet name for a pet name, and Shiro likes it.

Keith is still chuckling, playing with Akira’s long bangs.

“Maybe we should’ve named you Sven, kiddo.”

Shiro doesn’t get the joke. “That’s kind of off the wall, isn’t it?”

No more off the wall than parallel universes, it turns out. He can’t believe he and… Slav, ugh, actually get along in some universe out there. It sounds terrible anyway, but that fact doesn’t do it any favors, that’s for sure. It must be a pretty shit place if it’s so bad it brought the two of _them_ together as buddies. He shudders, unable to picture it.

“Well Keet, wat du yu tink of my fy-ting skillss?” Shiro jokes, smirking.

“Oh my god, shut up. It was bad enough having to see you when you were gone, and it wasn’t even _you_. It was so weird.

Shiro carefully sets the datapad down on the table, pretending he doesn’t see the unimpressed look from Keith, and moves to sit next to him on the couch.

“Lucky for me, somebody very special made sure I made it back in one piece.” He curls an arm around Keith, patting Akira’s little pudgy belly with his fingertips.

“Yeah, we owe Allura so much… I still don’t know how we can ever repay her.” Keith seems pensive, frowning quietly.

That can’t stand. Shiro pulls the two of them in close, pressing kisses to Keith’s cheek. “Well actually I meant _you_ someone special, not Allura special.” He elaborates when Keith scoffs. “No, I’m serious. I’ll never be able to thank her enough for pulling me out of the black lion’s consciousness, but… I think you’re forgetting, she would never have been able to do that if you hadn’t found me first. If you hadn’t synced with the astral plane, I’d… still be with Black.” _And still missing you_ , he adds silently.

Keith wonders aloud once if they should be using Shiro’s baby pictures as Akira grows, just to make sure he’s staying healthy. While he’s not opposed to having his parents send over some family keepsakes, Shiro doesn’t really want to be the yardstick they measure a child to. Especially not with his illness, which is a map through his adolescence. He would rather them do it the traditional way, just them and a pediatrician. It’ll be nice to visit a doctor for something positive for once.

As he predicted though, Akira is far from an easy baby. Shiro’s pretty sure there’s no such thing. It’s rough on Keith, who is so dedicated to him, but Shiro refuses to let him shoulder more than his fair share of childcare. So every night, he gently nudges Keith back onto his pillow, kisses his cheek, forehead, shoulder, wherever he can reach without Keith pulling him back down sleepily, and steps over to the crib.

It's one of those nights again, he and a fussy, tired Akira patrolling the kitchen.

“I understand,” he says softly as he tries to quiet Akira’s shrill wailing. “Nighttime is rough for me too, bud. Sorry, I guess you inherited that from me.” He chuckles, softly, but he stiffens as realization dawns on him. He didn’t mean it as anything more than a joke, but could it be possible that Akira and Shiro are suffering from the same problem, the same flashbacks and nightmares?

He’s horrified by the thought that Akira might have his worst memories. Could they test for that? Ulaz said Akira wasn’t exposed to any magic, but once the thought is in Shiro’s head it won’t leave his mind.

Shiro gets up from the kitchen table, Akira momentarily appeased by the movement, and carries him to his desk in the officers’ quarters he and Keith share next to their bedroom. He bounces the baby lightly on his knee, getting him happy and giggling. It’s not exactly a scientific baseline, but he needs to be able to have as much control over what Akira’s reacting to as possible to know for sure. With his Altean hand, he accesses records and pulls up database footage he doesn’t like to see. But it’s necessary, because if Akira _does_ have memories that aren’t his own… then he’ll remember Sendak.

Static images produce no screaming or crying, in fact he reaches for the bright colors of Shiro’s holoscreen. Pictures from the Garrison’s dossiers, static images and action shots both. Nothing gets a reaction. Then he plays the footage itself, what the entire Earth population was forced to see not very long ago – Sendak’s invasion speech. God, he’s glad the war is over. He doesn’t know what he’d do if he had to raise a child like that, he has no idea how Colleen managed being apart from everyone she loved for so long.

Sendak’s face menaces on the screen as he talks about the so-called Fire of Purification. Without the existential threat behind it, it sounds almost… cliché. But then, when have warlords been anything but base and repetitive? Akira, for his part, remains uninterested one the holo fails to produce any songs or pretty lights for him. He tugs on the hem of Shiro’s shirt, pulling it into his mouth to chew on instead.

Shiro’s so relieved his legs feel like jelly for a moment. He pulls Akira close as he babbles, tucking him under his chin and rubbing his back tenderly.

“Glad you didn’t inherit that, little guy. It’s a fresh start for both of us, huh.”

There’s a tiny first gripping his shirt and the telltale floppy weight of sleepy baby pressing down on him.

“Hm. You almost ready to go back to bed? Poppie’s already there, y’know.”

Keith’s dad had been Pop, sometimes Poppa. Keith decided he wasn’t quite ready to go that route yet, and settled on Poppie instead.

Shiro had, and _still_ has, no idea what he wanted. Again, at no point in his life had he ever expected to be a dad. He was still working out certain aspects of fatherhood… slowly. As everyone keeps reminding him, he is terrible with names.

The two of them head back to the kitchen. Knowing Akira’s going to be hungry any minute now, Shiro rouses him from off his shoulder just enough to get a bottle of formula popped into his mouth, right as Akira opens wide to start crying again at being woken up. It’s an expertly-done pass, his little lungs barely having time to crank up before Shiro is there with the warmed-up milk bottle.

Heh, maybe he’s not so bad at this after all.

While Akira’s eating, Shiro takes advantage of having a floating arm and tidies a bit in the kitchen. Loads the dishwasher, sets out everything they’ll need for coffee in the morning. They still eat in the galley usually, there’s not much time to do any home cooking, but Shiro has _needs_. Keith’s Marmora training has made him able to sleep anywhere for ten minutes, work all day, and then only look beautifully frazzled at the end of it. Shiro’s body has apparently adapted very quickly to a luxurious life of sleeping in a soft bed (by military standards, anyway) every night and snuggling up with Keith the whole time, and he now finds it hard to get going in the mornings. The night terrors and fitful light sleep hours don’t help.

His sleepless nights have haunted him since the Arena, but at least they’re getting a little less frequent now. Having Keith helps. Hell, Akira helps too. No time to think about it once your hyperventilating wakes up the baby, after all. Shiro’s grateful he’s action-focused, and that he can just laser focus on Akira instead of shutting down. But as it turns out, comforting him is soothing to Shiro as well. He’s slowly training himself out of constant vigilance, reminding himself that Atlas doesn’t need to sleep and she would wake him in an emergency, but… it’s difficult to just change his sleeping habits overnight. Though Akira’s certainly doing his best to retrain him waking up in the middle of the night to shrill screaming is a strong argument for getting back to bed quickly. Lucky for him, as long as the prepwork gets done Atlas is more than happy to start the coffeemaker up just before Shiro’s alarm goes off.

Akira burps sleepily, spitting up all over the towel Shiro threw over his shoulder.

“Good aim, cadet,” he chuckles, pulling the towel away with care. As he walks them back to bed, his arm tosses the burp towel in the washer and rejoins him.

“You try to get some sleep, little bud. You’ve got another big day cheering on your Poppie tomorrow.”

He tucks Akira back into the crib, yawning himself, and waits by his side to make sure he gets off to sleep okay. Kosmo has moved from the floor beside the crib and into Shiro’s spot in bed, crushing Keith halfway and surprising no one. Keith snores through it, impossibly.

It strikes him, then, how special this is. This is _them_ , every day. This is his _life_ , and he’s happy. It’s probably a little sad how much that surprises him, but after a life spent of waiting for the other shoe to drop it’s a welcome change of pace to have so much to enjoy.

As Akira blinks drowsily, Shiro smiles at him. “What do you think? Do I look like Dad? Or am I more of a Papa? Am I a rebel, should I go modern and hip like Pops, or Daddio? Snk.” He chuckles quietly, adjusting his blankets. “Maybe we take the Kosmo route and see what name _you_ give me.”

Akira’s sleeping now, one fist curled up by his head and the other gripped tight in his blanket.

“Sleep tight, buddy,” Shiro whispers.

Now comes the hard part – getting Kosmo off his side of the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this update! The conversion process is going well, but fleshing out each chapter adds easily a few hundred to a thousand words at a time so it's not just a plug and play situation. Hope you enjoyed it! There'll be more plot next time, now that their little family is coming together. Excitement!


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